Kindred Spirits Hit the Road

Kindred spirits come to me/us in a variety of shapes and forms. Today, Tess and I go to the airport and meet another of my most kindred, Christine. This is the part of the journey which is the least planned. How cool is that?

I have never been a tour-group-kind-of-girl and signing up for the pilgrimage with a group of 35 was a bit of a stretch for me. Friends and family (and I) still marvel at the fact that I took off for Paris - solo and had the time of my life. Anyone who reads here knows that I love to listen to the little niggles in life and follow where the wind might blow. When I decided to come to Ireland, the one thing I knew for certain was that I needed to head out into the countryside - away from the city, the tour buses and the usual guideb00k route. Perhaps being the daughter of a long-distance truck driver taught me the appreciation of the open road.

So...back to kindred spirits... Christine and Tess have volunteered to go with me wherever the trail may lead us AND they are going to let me drive. We have a car reserved, an atlas in hand and miles to go before we sleep. You'll have to wait until I return stateside to see where we land.

Today, Tess and I pick up Christine at the airport and hit the Irish road. As the plan goes, we should be back in Dublin by Sunday afternoon in time to start the "real" pilgrimage. I hope you will tune in tomorrow and enjoy the driving instructions I received from C's beloved (another kindred spirit) who has entrusted her to me for a few days.

Woohoo!! We're off on the winding Irish road. May traveling mercies abound!!

photo ©h3images.com taken in eastern washington

Not one. But not two.

"Just like the sun and its light, the ocean and the wave, the singer and the song. Not one. But not two." -- Joan Chittister quoting an ancient

Earlier this week Sunrise Sister wrote a lovely post reflecting on traveling and whether or not we have companions alongside us. One of the main questions people asked as I prepared for my trip is "who are you going with?" or "are you traveling alone?" I have had a hard time responding. I mean - do we ever really travel alone? On the flipside, can anyone else truly know where we've been or where we are going? "Not one. But not two." Profound, huh?

Today, I am reunited with one of my favorite blogging sisters, Tess of Anchors & Masts. We met online several years ago and had the delight of meeting in person almost two years ago in Paris. She is taking on the daunting task of keeping me awake throughout the day so I can get myself acclimated to UK time. Additionally, she has offered to meet me at the airport, steer me toward our lodging and carry my bags. Now that's a great traveling companion!

photo from Paris 2008

Leavin' on a jet plane

The heavy is the root of the light.

The unmoved is the source of all movement.

Thus the Master travels all day

without leaving home.

However splendid the views,

she stays serenely in herself.

Lao-Tzu, Tao de Ching
(found at Whatever else my life is...)

My bags are packed. I'm ready to go. Oh, goodness. I'm channeling John Denver. The sillies and giggles are taking over about now. When I read the above quote at Rebecca's site, I could not help but think of my own trip. As I consider "the heavy is the root of the light," I realize all that has gone before to bring me to this place. Years of heaviness and weight has somehow been transformed into amazing groundedness.

When I think of going to Ireland, I imagine the cliffs and the air so thin between heaven and earth that you can reach out and touch the ancestors who have gone before us. I feel the air holding me and lifting me like a feather. I feel like I can float away on the wings of the wind. Perhaps I shall. Still, I know the "heavy" will hold me. It will balance the light. There is freedom in being grounded. There is movement in the unmoved. I could stay inside the four walls of my own home and "travel all day". Today, however, I'm leavin' on a jetplane. Don't know when I'll be back again. (There's John Denver again. Do you think he's Irish?) Like I said, goosebumps and giggles have taken over my body and I am light as a feather. I feel like I could fly to Ireland without the plane.

Stay tuned for updates along the way. They won't be prime time, but they'll have to do.

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane -- John Denver

Ireland Bound

"In Ireland it is considered a 'soft day' when the drizzle and mist caress the earth. This softness often seeps into the soul, opening and inviting the heart to be present."

Six months ago I read those words in an invitation to pilgrimage from Spiritual Directors International. As I looked out my Seattle window onto a Northwest 'soft day', my heart responded with a resounding "yes." At the time, I had little knowledge of what any pilgrimage entailed. I just knew I had to go.

Details like time and money helped the naysayers try to convince me maybe the trip wasn't such a great idea. Then I sojourned to Houston for the SDI conference where I was helping my friend, Christine, man her booth for Abbey of the Arts. Angels had been busy at work before our arrival and the pilgrimage call spoke loud and clear as I realized our table sat less than two feet from the guides for the Celtic journey. By the end of the conference, we felt like old friends and, needless to say, I had paid my deposit and was setting a path for Ireland.

Tomorrow, I board a noon flight to Chicago and from there to Dublin - arriving at 8:30 a.m. (12:30 a.m. pst). My journey started long ago, but I (hopefully) depart with bags packed, passport in hand and a heart open for surprise.

My computer will not be traveling with me. I am taking only the essentials, however, in preparation for my trip I have created a series of posts to appear over the next several days outlining my itinerary. I started to say "where I am going," but that question remains to be answered. Please join me for the adventure and feel free to leave a comment or two in case my wireless service works and I take a peak. It would be wonderful to know you're along for the ride.

Sacred Sunday: Pondering Poetry

Thursday was National Poetry Day in the UK. Tess wrote a lovely post that has stayed with me most of today. Here was my response:

this is a very thought-provoking post for me. i do not remember lullaby’s ever being sung to me except in the recesses of my mind, so they must have come from somewhere. the poetry i remember from school was dissected and examined in such critical detail that i did not like it at all… and so, when i think of my favorite poets, the first ones that come to mind are the “ordinary” people. the ones i have witnessed create beauty from just a moment or two of solitude. i remember the first time i was prompted to write a poem since the painful time of elementary and middle-school rhyming agony. it was sitting in the midst of a group of women who i know now were anything but ordinary. when the words popped out of my mouth, they pulled a string on my heart and i was hooked. now i can visit the likes of oliver, neruda, levertov, rumi, hafiz, o’donohue, berry and others without dissecting them and looking for iambic pentameter and whatever. i can let the words wash over me like the songs they were created to be.

alas my poet’s heart was awakened by this post.

oh, and i am a sap for the love poems of elizabeth barrett browning.

How about you? Where and how (or does) poetry pull on the strings of your heart?